


When Life Gives You Lemons..

by kalika_999



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunkenness, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Who stole Brock's t-shirts 2016, meet drunk, wrong apartment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9059509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999
Summary: Jack's drunk and lost his keys so he resorts to getting in through the fire escape.  He's not sure when Bucky moved all the furniture around.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wrong apartment AU

“ _Fucking Clint_.” Is all he musters out with a slur when he’s attempting to stoop over on the fire escape and get his window open. 

It takes a bit of effort but it finally groans and gives in, sides sticking and Jack has to put in some extra effort to open it up all the damn way because he’s not some dainty princess who can get through it with just a crack like somehow Barton can.

“Fucker.”

He runs straight into the back of a side table, knocking off something that breaks and he’s already scrubbing a hand over his face and trying to adjust in the fogginess because Bucky never had a table over there before but then this is Bucky and he did weird shit like move the furniture around because he just felt like it. 

Suddenly he’s walking into a bookshelf knocking a few things and he can’t recall moving his books to this side of the room, he assumes those two boneheads decided to fuck with him after taking his keys at the bar and ditching him and now it was a prank war. Well..maybe after he takes a little nap which is where he passes out when he finally finds the couch.

  


The sun’s glaring in his face and something’s poking him on the shoulder as he comes to with a mammoth sized headache. He notices the minor path of destruction but also the fact that this isn’t at all his and Buck’s apartment. There’s an open gym bag by the door, boxing gloves tossed on some armchair and a stack of shooter game cases sitting on the table, he thinks he sees a plant box at the kitchen window with herbs like his place but they’re different looking. Finally he looks above him to the hot guy in silk black boxers and a wall of muscle angrily folding his arms over his chest glowering at him.

“ _Shit_.”

“Shit’s fuckin’ right, who the fuck are you?”

Rollins’ can’t seem to make his eyes uncross completely for a long while before he warily sits up with his hands up so hot muscle guy doesn’t feel threatened, even though he can see his muscles tense the second he even tries to shift around to really look up but he’s a little distracted by thick thighs that the guy’s boxers seem to have trouble keeping restrained.

“I, um..”

_Smooth Rollins, smooth._

He tries not to scowl at himself lest giving the hot guy the impression it’s directed towards _him_ and no one wanted that especially when there was a stranger in his apartment and he looked like he might be smaller but could possibly kick his ass six ways to Sunday.

Releasing a small huff of a sigh Jack keeps his head low, looking up to finally meet the man’s face, “I fucked up. My roommate and our friend swiped my keys at the bar. We’re always screwin’ around with each other and I knew he wasn’t going to be home so I decided to get in through the fire escape.”

He hoped it was valid enough to the guy and he wasn’t going to call the cops because that’s all he needed especially if he had to call Bucky to bail him out like last time, he would never hear the end of it. He looked back at the floor, pressing a hand at his forehead to keep his raging headache from really ruining him.

“Right.” The hot guy mutters out with a wary tone but unfolds his arms with an eye on him as Jack glances up at him watching as he moves from the side of the couch to the front of it obviously not shy about standing around in his underwear. 

He’s got some kind of petable poof of hair thing going on that’s all over the place right now because of course he just woke up, a rough face with ample scruff that Jack wouldn’t mind getting to know and his eyes trail down his chest before his brain really comes back to him, finally booting itself back online and realizes who he’s ogling all this time.

“This is apartment 22B.”

“Yeah, no shit it’s 22B.”

The guy smirks, he’s actually _smirking_ at him and Jack wants to either jump him for looking like that or run the fuck out onto the fire escape and jump off _that_ because this is his new neighbor from one floor _below_ him. The same guy Jack’s been secretly checking out when they go get their mail in the lobby at the same time or when they pass each other in the parking garage or the one time Jack saw him ordering a coffee from the cafe at the corner just as he was walking in and promptly booked it out of there too nervous to say hello. Now here he was in the guy’s apartment and the said object of his attraction was standing before him in just a pair of boxers.

Jack has no idea how he managed to fuck up so badly, they had pool noodles on their own fire escape that they used to hit each other with and let’s not forget the blow up sex doll Barton brought over one day for God knows what reason, this guy’s fire escape had nothing.

“Wow..” Is all Rollins can really utter after all that, pulling himself up warily as he shook his head again in disbelief, “I’m just going to get out of here and..yep.”

Hot guy lets him pass with a look of amusement and Jack takes a few steps before realizing he’s not wearing shoes and there’s one by the coffee table and the other is under the couch and he’s silently cursing to himself over why it’s there in the first place trying to casually fish it out without feeling like a total fucking idiot. When said piece of shit shoe is found, he shoves his foot into it without even bothering to fit his heel in and practically speed walks to the front door pausing after it’s fully open.

“Thanks for..not stabbing me in my sleep or spraying me with mace or getting the cops involved or..something else.”

“No problem.” Hot guy replies with his smirk shifting into a smile now that he can relax and knows Jack isn’t going to turn the tables around on him and stab him. Jack still can’t get over the guy just standing and watching him leave in just his boxers -not that he’s complaining mind you- it’s just odd. He has no idea what else to say he just wants to get his ass out of there so he raises his hand to do a stupid little awkward wave and then he’s out the door and practically running down the hallway with the back of his shoe folded under his heel.

His mind is sarcastically telling him how smooth he is while he manages to get on the correct floor and bang his fist repeatedly on the door hoping Bucky finally made it home because he sure as hell isn’t going back to ask if he could climb his fire escape to get into his place.

While he’s relaying the events of his drunkenness, Bucky’s making him a cup of coffee and trying his best not to laugh at his stupid ass and suddenly it occurs to Jack that he never bothered to introduce himself to owe Hottie a favor. 

Of all the shitty luck.

He plans to spend the rest of the day in his sweats and wearing Bucky’s stars and planets space snuggie while watching shitty horror movies and _brooding_ with a tub of ice cream about how much he fucked up. 

A couple hours into his pity party Bucky joins him on the couch and steals his popcorn, getting way too involved with how fake the blood color is. Jack’s interrupted from replying when he gets a call on his phone from an unknown number and he answers it before he can really think about it.

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of delay, “Is this Jack..Rollins?”

“Yeah this is him, who’s this?” Jack’s frowning a little and Bucky’s tilting his head curiously at his expression, ceasing all conversation about good alternatives to use to make blood look authentic.

“It’s Brock, 22B?”

There’s a brief pause as he waits for recognition and Jack’s eye widen just a fraction because how does Hot Guy have his number? A glare shoots towards Bucky in seconds who only seems confused about the whole thing and puts his hands up in honest refusal to take responsibility for anything because he knows Jack’s _Bucky what the fuck did you do_ face all too well.

“‘Lo?”

Jack drops his head back because if it wasn’t Bucky, he really hopes Jack didn’t relieve himself in a potted plant or something mortifying like that and the guy got the building manager involved. He knows if anyone gave a description of him he’d be named in seconds. He’s gonna have to move.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking,” He straightened his shoulders, “What can I do for you Brock?”

Bucky smirks at him suddenly and mouths Brock’s name, forming a heart with his hands and making kissy faces because Jack’s suddenly going a little red so his best friend knows exactly who it is on that line. 

“It’s what I can do for you actually.”

Jack swears Brock’s doing something dirty with his voice, there’s no way he can sound _hotter_ than what he sounds like in person because what the hell.

“I was cleanin’ up a lil and you left your wallet in the couch cushions. You have your number on the back of your license.”

“Oh shit my wallet, I didn’t even notice I was missing it.”

Bucky breaks out in a grin and proceeds to give a very good impression of a blow job with both hands and his mouth and Jack’s trying not to yell at him or laugh and he throws his snuggie at him instead, scrambling off the couch.

“I could come drop it off for you or- ”

Shutting himself up in his room, Jack leaned against the door frame, “..Or?”

Brock drops his tone and Jack definitely picks that up like a starving man, “..Or you could come over and I could help you look for it.”

Okay so maybe his luck wasn’t as shitty as he thought.


End file.
